..and not any old ice cream van, oh no, I'd wager, but the latest LSSAH Ausf. H ice cream van. And it won't be dispensing Mr Whippy either! No! Should Ivan Komradski queue at the hatch and request a double-choc chip with hot fudge topping he's going to get a frozen choc-covered cyanide pills and something that wont free easily from the roof of the mouth. What a foul and despicable asymmetric means of waging war!
This Kauz pretender, he wants to be a Grog, he struts like a Grog and has all the itty-bitty Grog-like factoids that wobble on Grog-like sticks and he sort of almost sounds like a Grog.
Except he can't quite reach the Grog-like Titan heights of Grogology. No reverse-ferreting, no seamless dissembling with the agile, adept prowl of a hungry jungle kitty needing fresh non-Grog meat and quite obviously doesn't have the complete command over the subject matter that could punch holes in hard cows' cheese. AND if that wasn't enough, non-capitalisation at the start of sentences. I mean, newb Grog wannabe error or wot! Why not wave a flag, "Grog-kitty, gobble me up, I'm frying tonight"?